


sing one we know

by marvellingyou (tourmalinex)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: 1940s, 1940s Stucky, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, Frottage, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Love Confessions, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sarah Rogers (Mentioned) - Freeform, Unrequited Love, but - Freeform, but not written out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-03-01 04:18:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18792829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tourmalinex/pseuds/marvellingyou
Summary: “And how many times do I hafta tell you I’m with you ‘til the end of the line?” He playfully punched Steve’s shoulder. “You’re not gettin’ rid of me.”So he let Bucky stay. At first, it wasn’t any different than the sleepovers they’d have as kids, as teenagers. It was comfortable, familiar. Coming home to Bucky after a shift at the grocery store and sitting together in the living room as he sketched was a dream come true. But that’s just it, a dream, a fantasy. This was only to keep Steve afloat. One day, Bucky would move out, find a nice dame, get married and have a family of his own.There wouldn’t be any room for Steve.





	1. Chapter 1

Steve wasn’t quite sure when he fell in love with his best friend. 

No mistake, he felt love towards Bucky since the day they met—Steve couldn’t imagine what his life would be without him. But at some point, his love warped, transformed, into the love meant for men and women. If he had to pick out the pivotal moment in his life that triggered the change, it was probably when Steve was sixteen and Bucky was seventeen. New York summers were brutal and had no regard for human comfort. Steve’s shirt would be soaked from sweating through the humid, sunlit hours. By the time the moon rose, creeping over the night sky, he was relieved to feel even the smallest of breezes against his sticky skin. He’d hope for a peaceful evening, where he could just sit in his boxers and listen to the radio. Bucky, however had other plans.

“Hey, Stevie!” Bucky called as he entered the tiny apartment. He looked down at Steve, who was sprawled out on the floor. Bucky nudged Steve with his foot, eliciting a groan. “Get up, ya punk. I got somethin’ for us.”

“Is it a gun?” Steve asked as he sat up. “‘Cause I’d rather die than be in this heat for another hour.”

“Nope.” Bucky shoved his hand in his bag and pulled out two bottles. “Here. An ice cold coke, just for you pal.”

“Thanks. I needed something cold.” Slowly, Steve got up and went to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle opener. After the bottles opened with a loud  _ pop! _ , the boys clinked their bottles and drank.

“Christ, not even a cold shower could make me feel better,” Bucky muttered. 

Steve gulped down the rest of his Coke. “Yeah. I just want summer to be over with.”

“Well, it could be worse.” Bucky put his hand on Steve’s shoulder, only to pull away immediately. “Oh,  _ gross _ , Stevie. You’re so fucking sticky!”

“Oh, shut up, ya jerk!” Steve’s mouth twisted and his eyebrows furrowed. Bucky couldn’t help but laugh at his expression. And then it clicked. Steve noticed the way Bucky’s eyes were closed with little specks of water, almost crying from laughing so much. His nose crinkled as his lips were pulled into a crooked, toothy grin. He couldn’t place it, but there was something  _ different _ .

Looking back, it was obvious. But at the time, Steve swore his face flushed out of pure embarrassment and indignation. 

* * *

 

So much had changed in only a handful of years, too fast, if you asked Steve.

Soon after he graduated high school, his beloved mother succumbed to the dreaded White Plague. While he held no ill will towards hospitals—his mother was one of the best nurses the hospital had—her death added to his uneasiness. It was bad enough that Steve had so many illnesses and went through many hospitalizations and doctor visits. It was bad enough to be punctured with needles and to be given so many pills. But to lose his mother to a job she loved so dearly, it was too much.

After her funeral, Bucky had offered for Steve to bunk at his place. But Steve just  _ couldn’t _ . The apartment he grew up in was all that he had left of his mother, save for some photographs and her clothes. Moving out was just as a bad as abandoning her, in a way. 

So Bucky came up with another plan. He’d move in with Steve.

“Don’t worry, pal. My parents get it.” 

Steve tried to protests, but before he knew it, Bucky came in with two suitcases and sat down on the couch. “I ain’t lettin’ ya go through his alone. We’ll split the rent, groceries, everything.”

“Really, Buck.” Steve shook his head, then sat down next to Bucky. “You don’t need to do this.”

“And how many times do I hafta tell you I’m with you ‘til the end of the line?” He playfully punched Steve’s shoulder. “You’re not gettin’ rid of me.”

So he let Bucky stay. At first, it wasn’t any different than the sleepovers they’d have as kids, as teenagers. It was comfortable, familiar. Coming home to Bucky after a shift at the grocery store and sitting together in the living room as he sketched was a dream come true. But that’s just it, a dream, a fantasy. This was only to keep Steve afloat. One day, Bucky would move out, find a nice dame, get married and have a family of his own. 

There wouldn’t be any room for Steve.

Betty. Mary. Irene. Carol. Dorothy. Shirley. Joyce. 

Dames came and went, and Bucky was sweet on all of them, treated them real nice. Steve on the other hand, couldn’t get a dame to look at him, despite the effort—not that he minded so much. If anything, he longed to switch places with every girl Bucky danced with, even with his two left feet. Pangs of jealousy would consume him, all over a fabrication.

“C’mon, Stevie,” Bucky begged. “Janice has a friend and maybe you two could hit it off. I heard she’s a real swell gal.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll pass.” Steve looked over his sketch, scanning from top to bottom. “I have a deadline that I’d  _ really _ like to make.”

Bucky shrugged. “Alright, if you say so. Don’t wait up for me.”

“Like I would.” But he does, every single time. “Now go, your breathing is makin’ me lose concentration.”

As always, Bucky flashed him  _ that _ smile, the one that made his knees weak. Oh, Steve was absolutely  _ fucked _ . The moment Steve was all alone, he slumped back on the couch and stared up at the ceiling, letting the pencil fall from his hand onto the floor. What would his mother think of him now, mopin’ about the apartment over a frivolous crush?

_ Get over yourself, Rogers. You’re not that special. _

He rolled over, clutching his stomach. “Ma… what should I do?”

Even if she answered, Steve couldn’t hear her. The veil between them was too thick, and he knew that until he joined her, he could only have one-sided conversations. And that’s how he felt. Everything was one-sided.

As always, he waited for Bucky to get home. Steve sat down at the dining table and was shading in a sketch of their living room when Bucky stumbled in, chuckling to himself. The blonde rolled his eyes. Every once in a while, Bucky would come home drunk and pass out on the couch. But Steve could already tell it was gonna be one of  _ those _ nights, where Bucky reeked of booze and perfume. Steve never really had a reason to complain. After all, Bucky was just having some fun—harmless, socially-acceptable fun.

“Heeey, Stevie,” Bucky said, hugging Steve from behind. He rested his chin on the crown of Steve’s head. “Whatcha up to?”

“Nothin’ much,” Steve grumbled as he closed his sketchbook.

“When are ya gonna draw some naked dames?” Bucky asked, his words nearly slurring. “You’d make a lotta money doin’ that.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I ain’t gonna do that Buck. Now get offa me. You’re heavy as hell.” Although Bucky whined, he complied and peeled himself away from the shorter man. As Steve got up from his chair, his nose crinkled at the strong rose perfume.

“Look, Buck,” Steve began. “I get it. Dancin’ with dames is fun. But do you gotta come home smellin’ like that?"

“Like what?” Bucky asked, almost offended. 

“Like she was all over you!” Steve crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not stupid. I know I’m smellin’ more than just  _ perfume _ .”

“So what? You jealous or somethin’?” Bucky’s mouth twisted as he moved forward, shoving Steve. “Just ‘cause you’re not gettin’ any doesn’t mean you gotta take it out on me!”

Steve’s eyes widened in disbelief. As much as he wanted to trust that this was just the alcohol talking, Steve couldn’t stop his stomach from tightening. Anger, confusion and betrayal were swirling within his chest. He couldn’t stop the words from escaping.

“Fuck you,  _ James _ .” Steve pushed Bucky back. “Maybe you’re goin’ through dame after dame because you can’t keep one!”

He could see the rage building in Bucky’s eyes and tightening fists, but Steve refused to let up and glared right back. “Whatcha gonna do?  _ Hit _ me? Go ahead! I’ve been taking punches all my life.”

_ What are we doing? _

Steve couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed his coat and rushed out the door, never noticing how Bucky slammed his fist against their table. With dragging footsteps, he made his way over to the couch. He tried searching his own thoughts, trying to figure out why he said any of that. Steve was the best person he knew, and he didn’t deserve any of that. 

“Fucking hell,” Bucky muttered before surrendering to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This has been sitting in my wip folder for a minute now, so I finally decided to post it. I figured, where the music's playing is all fluffy and cute and sweet, so why not write the exact opposite to balance things out? But for real, this is going to be dark until it eventually gets better—and it will get better. 
> 
> As said in the tags, this fic will contain a reference to sexual assault, but it won't be written out in detail and there will be a note at the beginning of the chapter where it happens.
> 
> Comments and kudos clear my skin and waters my one and only surviving bamboo plant!


	2. Chapter 2

Steve didn’t come back that night, nor did he come back in the morning. Bucky didn’t worry then. After all, Steve left his ma’s photograph—and Bucky knew for a fact that Steve’s love for his mother was larger than any other emotion he’d felt. But by the time noon hit, Bucky was concerned. Where the hell could that punk have gone? He paced around the living room, trying to think of where Steve would go when someone knocked at the door. Bucky hoped, _prayed_ , that it was Steve. Instead, his sister, Rebecca, stood in front of the door, eyes red and a handkerchief twisted in her hands.

“Becks?” Bucky eyebrows furrowed. “What’re you doin’ here? What’s wrong?”

Becks sniffled. “Bucky… it’s Steve. H-He’s in the hospital.”

The world came to a grinding halt as Bucky tried—but failed—to form a sentence, let alone any words.

His sister grabbed his wrist. “He… we gotta go, _now_.”

He grabbed his keys and locked the door hastily as Becks hailed a cab for them. His mind was reeling. Hospital? Why’d he have to go to the hospital? Did he get hurt? Probably. That punk never backed down from anything and refused help from anyone. So then why was Steve _there_ , and how did Becks know?

“Ma’s there with him,” she said quietly, as if she could read her brother’s mind.

Oh, that’s right. He remembered now. Back when Steve’s mother died, Bucky’s parents were adamant that Steve move in with them. Seeing that Steve initially rejected Bucky’s offer, he went on to reject theirs, too. But Winifred didn’t let Steve off the hook that easily. After all, he was family in all but blood. So Winifred made Steve promise that if anything happened to him, she was the emergency contact. Bucky was the second contact, given that he actually lived with Steve, and he almost argued with his ma about it.

“I’m his mother too,” she said. “And I want to be the first to know if something happens to one of my boys.” So he settled for second place.

Bucky’s stomach twisted as he and Becks stepped out of the cab and into the hospital. The hospital was practically a third home, given the many times he came by to accompany Steve to his appointments despite the blonde’s protests. He followed right behind his sister, his footsteps chasing heavily behind the rapid tapping of her heels. Becks didn’t bother to turn around, to make sure her brother followed, but Bucky felt the tension building within her with every step. His heart raced, so much that he could hear each beat drumming in his chest.

Becks finally slowed down as they approached one of the rooms, stopping just before the doorway, as if to allow Bucky to enter the room before her. He swallowed thickly as he entered the room, not knowing what to expect.

The sight alone nearly knocks all the air out of him.

Steve laid in bed, sleeping with shallow breath. His face a pale canvas splattered with red and dark blue, with cuts and a black eye. A white bandage was wrapped around his forehead, but even that was tinted with dried blood. As Bucky approached the bed, he slowly raised his arms, as if to reach out to Steve, to give any kind of comfort possible. His lips trembled, unable to let him speak, to let him _apologize_. Bucky was so focused on Steve he hadn’t even registered she was in the room, sitting on a chair beside the bed, until she spoke.

“He was barely clinging on when someone found him,” his mother said, almost in tears herself.

Before he could even reach the bed, Bucky’s knees gave out. He hunched over, holding himself as a sob escaped from him. Without hesitation, Winifred got up and crouched down next to him, rubbing his back. “He’ll be okay, James. The doctors said he just needs rest.”

“It’s all my fault, ma!” Bucky half-shouted, half-whispered.

“Oh, _sweetheart_ ,” she said calmly. “How could this be your fault?”

“W-We had a fight,” Bucky explained, hiccuping. “An’ I said some stuff to ‘im. If I kept my mouth shut—”

“James Buchanan Barnes, don’t you start with your shoulda coulda wouldas.” She brought her hand to his chin, lifting his face to meet her gaze. Tears overflowed, spilling down Bucky’s cheeks.

“You weren’t the one who beat him in that alley.”

Bucky’s heart skipped a beat as he remembered Steve’s words.

 _“Whatcha gonna do?_ **_Hit_ ** _me?”_

He may as well have.

Winifred swiped her thumb against Bucky’s cheek before patting him lightly. “C’mon, let’s get somethin’ to eat. We can come back and talk with the doctor, okay?”

Bucky could only nod as his body moved on its own, tailing after his mother and Becks, head hung down in shame.

* * *

_Where am I?_

Steve stood in the middle of a garden, flourishing with flowers. The garden seemed to be well tended to, as the shrubs seemed trimmed and from what he could tell, there were no weeds or other unwanted greenery. He took in the sight, surveying his surroundings, only to stop when he noticed a cobblestone path. Curious, Steve walked over, following the trail. No one else was around, and he couldn’t hear anything aside from the fluttering of wings and the occasional chirps. The path winded down, leading Steve to a water fountain. From a distance, he saw a figure sitting down at a stone bench, admiring the lapping water. The figure had a feminine shape, and long blonde hair. Steve came to a halt as he sucked in a breath. He blinked several times, even rubbing his eyes, trying to make sense of what—or rather who—he was seeing.

“... ma?”

Sarah stood up and turned towards him, smiling. Steve rushed over towards his mother, nearly knocking her over as he wrapped his arms around her.

“I miss you so much,” he said, eyes pooling with tears. Sarah patted his back, then kissed the top of his head.

“I miss you, too.” She pulled away, placing her hands on Steve’s shoulders. “But you need to you back and live your life to the fullest, Steve.”

Steve frowned as his arms trembled. “What if I don’t know how?”

“You’re smart, mo mhac.” Sarah cupped his face, smiling sadly. “I know you’ll figure it out. It’s not your time yet. One day, we’ll be reunited, I promise.”

His eyes widened as he shook his head frantically. “I already lost you! I don’t wanna go back!”

“You never lost me, Steve.” She moved one of her hands, placing it on his chest. “I’m always here, and I’m always watching over you. But for now, it’s time for you to wake up. I love you, Steve.”

“I love you too, ma.”

* * *

Lunch was uneventful. Bucky couldn’t even bring himself to eat his sandwich, just taking a few bites before heading back to the hospital. Steve was still unconscious, and his breathing remained shallow. He pulled up the chair closer to the bed and took Steve’s hand in his.

“Stevie, I-I… I’m so sorry,” he whispered, bringing Steve’s hand to his forehead. “I can’t… I can’t lose you like this, after sayin’ all those things.” Bucky looked up and sighed. He knew Steve couldn’t hear him, but damn it all he had to _try_ . “All the dames in Brooklyn can’t see what I see, an’ I see the strongest guy in the whole world. And… I _need_ you here, in this world with me. Steve, don’t leave me. You mean so much to me, more than I can say.”

Heels clicked over towards him. Bucky turned, eyes widening when he met his mother's gaze.

“M-Ma, I—”

“—I know, James. Did you really think I didn’t notice the way you looked at him?”

Before Bucky could ask, both he and his mother turned around, hearing Steve stirring. He rushed back to Steve’s side, holding onto his arm. Steve’s eyebrow furrowed as his eyes slowly fluttered open.

“Stevie?” Bucky whispered.

The blonde winced, but once his grew more aware of his surroundings, his eyes snapped open. A scream vaulted from his mouth as he thrashed about.

“Hey, hey!” Bucky tried to hold him down, to keep him from hurting himself. “Steve it’s okay! You’re in the hospital!” Winifred rushed towards the door. “I’ll go get the doctor!”

Although Bucky tried his best, Steve wouldn’t stop flailing his arms, nearly punching him in the process.

“Let go!” Steve shouted, his voice hoarse. “Don’t touch me! Let me go!”

“Steve, c’mon! You gotta relax!”

Steve faced him, his eyes wild and wide with fear. His breathing quickened and his shoulders trembled. Bucky’s chest twinged in pain. Didn’t Steve know that Bucky would protect him and keep this from happening again? That if he hadn’t been a drunken idiot, he would _never_ let this happen? But with the way Steve looked at him, it was as if he couldn’t recognize who Bucky was. And Bucky could never forgive himself if Steve lost his memory because of him.

“Stevie, it’s me,” he said, voice trembling. “C’mon I’ll pro—”

“—excuse me.”

The doctor approached the bed, followed by Winifred and a group of nurses.

“Son, I’ll need you to step out for a while,” the doctor said. The nurses walked over to Steve, one of them motioning for Bucky to move. Another had a needle prepped—most likely a sedative—as the other nurses tried their best to hold Steve down.

“Come on,” Winifred said, tugging at Bucky’s arm. “We’ll wait outside.”

Bucky’s shoulders dropped.

_I just wanna be there for him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations, via Google Translate;**  
>  ** _mo mhac_** \-- my son  
>  
> 
> Hey guys! Boy oh boy, everything's a mess, isn't it? But no worries! It'll simmer down... eventually. Hope this was alright! As always, comments and kudos give me life! I'll probably update when the music's playing either tomorrow or Sunday
> 
>  
> 
> See ya next time!


	3. Chapter 3

When the doctor leaves the room, he motions for Winifred to follow--probably to go over Steve’s discharge instructions. Bucky went back into Steve’s room, stepping in carefully. Steve was awake, but his presence was lacking. Whatever the nurses gave him clearly worked, since Steve barely reacted when Bucky sat next to him.

“Hey, pal,” Bucky said quietly. “You gonna be okay?”

Steve shrugged, his face holding a blank expression. “They’re keepin’ me overnight. I get to go home in the mornin’.” 

Bucky tensed at the blonde’s voice. Steve sounded so removed, so distant, as if he weren’t in the room, or even his own body. 

“That’s good.” Bucky swallowed thickly. “I’ll come by tomorrow to pick ya up, okay? I’m gonna go check with my ma and let you rest, ‘kay?”

At first, Steve didn’t respond. But as soon as Bucky attempted to place his hand on his shoulder, Steve flinched, his eyes wide. 

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Just… don’t.”

“Okay. I’ll, um, go now.”

Bucky rushed out of the room, heart racing. He and Steve were always affectionate with each other, with light touches here and there. Neither lingered too long, but it was always just enough. To see such fear in Steve’s eyes twisted Bucky’s chest.  _ I did that to him. _ If he hadn’t raised his fist in the first place, maybe Steve wouldn’t be so repulsed. Being drunk wasn’t an excuse, and to think that there was a part of Bucky, no matter how small, was capable of intending to hurt Steve made him sick. 

_ Maybe I’m a monster. _

He spotted his ma and Becks down the hall by the nurses station. His ma’s eyes were freshly red and near swollen. Had she been crying again? Bucky’s throat tightened. 

“What’d the doc say?” he asked, almost not wanting to hear the answer. 

“He… he just needs to rest.” Winnie sniffled. “When he gets home, he should just stay in bed. I’ll come by with food for you boys tomorrow afternoon.”

Bucky nodded dumbly as he followed his ma and Becks back home. He wasn’t going to be able to sleep that night.

* * *

 

Darkness blanketed the city. Although Bucky didn’t venture out at night alone--he was usually with Steve or a gal--he needed some time to himself, to think. So much was happening, and it was more than Bucky could process at once. He wandered the streets of late night Brooklyn without a destination in mind. Everything was closed, except for the movie theater and the local bars. At least the streets weren’t completely deserted--Bucky would’ve been nervous otherwise. Normally, he was fine with solitude, but not when it came to walking around in the dead of night… well, anything could happen.

He shivered at the cold. As Bucky shoved his hands in his coat pockets and picked up his pace. If he wanted, he could go to a bar and drown in whiskey, but what good would that do?

“Hey! He’s gettin’ away!”

Bucky ignored the shouting until he heard a crash. He ran towards the sound. He owed it to Steve, who even with his weak lungs, would run towards trouble if it meant saving someone. Bucky followed the sounds of struggle until he reached an alleyway. A dark figure loomed over, kicking a smaller frame. Bucky took a few steps forward but eventually found it impossible to move and further. The smaller figure tried to stand up, only to be kicked down again. He groaned, struggling to breathe.

“...  _ why _ ?” The smaller figure asked, his voice shaking. Bucky’s blood flowed. No. He knew that voice. 

“Stevie?” As much as Bucky willed his body to move, he couldn’t budge. And apparently, Steve couldn’t hear him.

“Do you hate me that much?” 

The larger figure grabbed Steve by the collar, lifting him effortlessly.

“Yeah, I do,” he said coldly. He raised his fist and punched Steve’s face continuously, breaking Steve’s nose, knocking out teeth. Bucky was seething mad, screaming for it all to stop. The man must have heard him, since he dropped Steve like a piece of garbage, the blonde unmoving. When the man turned around, Bucky fell to his knees, his hands shaking.

“No…” Bucky clutched his head between his hands. “No, no, no, no!” He looked up and saw himself, expressionless and blooding staining his shirt.

“This is your fault,” his other self said. “You promised to look after him. But you’re the one that’s killing him.”

When Bucky woke up, he rolled off of the bed and threw up.

* * *

 

Around 11 o’clock, Bucky got dressed and made his way over to the hospital, hoping that Steve would be ready to come back home. The hospital was busier than usual, not that it mattered to Bucky. He just wanted to see Steve, to talk to him properly. As he reached Steve’s room, he gulped. He was too nervous for his own good. 

“Hey, Stevie,” Bucky said upon entering. Steve didn’t look that much better, but at least the color (as pale as he was) returned to his face. “They lettin’ you go home?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. The nurse is gonna come by soon.”

Bucky walked over to Steve’s bedside to sit down, but noticed something on the sidetable. It was a small bouquet of flowers, with a notecard.

> _ Get well soon. _
> 
> _ Eileen _

Who the hell was Eileen? Bucky didn’t remember setting up Steve with an Eileen. Was she a secret admirer? Someone from the grocery store Steve worked at? He wanted to know the answer, but at the same time, didn’t. 

“So… how’re ya feelin’ today?” Bucky asked. 

“M’fine, I guess,” Steve said, shrugging.

There was a knock on the door.

“Steve Rogers?” A nurse said. “The doctor said you’re all clear to go.” Bucky moved out of the way as the nurse walked over. As she took out the IV, she gave Steve some instructions for when he gets home. 

“Make sure to get plenty of fluids and rest at least for another twenty-four hours.” 

Steve nodded. He scooted over so that his legs dangled from the bed. The nurse smiled, then pulled some bandages from her pocket.

“Sarah was… she was kind to me,” the nurse said quietly, holding out the bandages. “Here, take some of these. They can be pricey.”

For a moment, Steve’s eyes flickered with light. “Thank you, he said earnestly. 

The nurse then turned to Bucky. “I trust that you’ll look after him?”

Bucky nodded. “You have my word, miss.”

She smiled and left the room. Steve rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at the tile floor.

“You ready to go home?”

Steve looked up, his face expressionless once again. “Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! Two updates in one night! The guilt is strong with Bucky in this one, and the guilt will only get heavier. Whatcha guys think so far? It'll keep getting darker before the eventual happy ending--and it will be happy, I promise!
> 
> As always, comments and kudos give me life! Come talk to me on [tumblr](http://marvelling-you.tumblr.com), where we can scream about Endgame!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, y'all! This is the chapter where the implied/referenced non-con comes into play. The assault and aftermath is being described by a witness.

Few words were exchanged between Bucky and Steve when he got back home. 

“Wanna take a shower?” Bucky asked. “I know you hate that hospital smell.”

Steve didn’t answer, but walked in silence to their bathroom, locking the door behind him. Bucky sat down at their table, burying his face in his hands. He hated that Steve wasn’t talking to him. Normally, he’d be complaining about Bucky mothering him, before the mothering even started. But not this time. Dinner was also a quiet affair. After Steve finished, as little as he ate, he retreated back to their room, burying himself in the bed. Bucky wanted so badly to follow, but through the smallest of gestures, Steve’s back seemed to say, “leave me alone.” For the time being, the couch would be Bucky’s new bed.

As morning rolled around, Bucky could’ve sworn he heard the bedroom door open. But as he blinked his eyes open, the door remained shut tight. He got up and knocked a few times, only to receive no answer. Although he contemplated entering the room, Bucky decided that he had no right to. Instead, he focused on cooking breakfast, making sure to set a decent serving aside for Steve. When he started washing up the dishes, the doorbell rang. 

“Just a sec!” he called out as he dried his hands. When Bucky opened the door, he saw a young woman he never met before. She wore her auburn hair in curls, going down to her shoulders. Her dress was dark green and her lips was bright red. She held a small bouquet, similar to the one Bucky saw at the hospital. 

“Can I help you?” Bucky asked. 

“Um.” She tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. “I was told that Steve Rogers went home and I just…” She shook her head. “Is he here?”

Bucky leaned against the doorframe and sighed. “Yeah, but he’s not really talking much.”

“Oh.” Her eyes shifted from left to right as she extended one hand. “My name’s Eileen.”

Bucky took her hand, shaking firmly. “James. Friends call me Bucky.”

“Are you close with Steve?” Eileen asked. Bucky almost wanted to say, “not right now,” but chose against it.

“I’ve known that punk since we were kids.”

“Is it alright, if we talk, I mean?” 

Bucky didn’t know what to make of that. Talk? About what?

“But not here,” Eileen whispered. “We can go to Prospect Park.”

“Okay.” Bucky gestured at the bouquet. “Lemme take that in. Don’t want the flowers to wilt.”

Eileen nodded, surrendering the flowers. Bucky rushed back inside, trying to find something to use as vase. Sadly, all they had was an empty jar. He filled it up halfway with water, then stood the flowers up. As he grabbed his coat, Bucky looked back towards the bedroom door. 

“Steve!” he called out. “I’m gonna go out for a bit! There’s food on the stove!”

Once more, there was no answer. 

Bucky sighed, then closed the front door behind him. He followed Eileen’s lead, walking half a step behind. The walk was quiet, though Eileen would occasionally turn her head, as if she wanted to talk then and there. But she pressed her lips into a thin line, waiting until they arrived at the park. There weren’t too many people outside, making the park a perfect place to talk. They settled down on a bench, and Bucky waited patiently through Eileen’s stuttering starts.

“I-I was there,” she began. “I was there when he got hurt. He… he saved me.”

That didn’t come as much of a surprise. Steve always had a habit of sticking up for people, for strangers.

“Y’see… I was walkin’ back home from a friend’s house. After ‘bout a few blocks, these drunk men started followin’ me.” Eileen breathed in deeply, her shoulders shaking. “One of ‘em grabbed me, and they kept tryin’ to put their hands on me. But he saw me, and tried stoppin’ ‘em. Told me to run. W-When I looked back, he was on the ground so I ran to get my brother, told ‘im about Steve. He got out his gun, to scare the men off. B-By… by the time we go to ‘im…” She bit her quivering lower lip as tears dripped freely from her eyelashes. 

“He… they were  _ touchin’ _ him!” she sobbed. “They kept touchin’ him ‘til my brother fired a round in the air! I went to over to check on ‘im, and he was covered in bruises and blood and I-I… I tried to clean that s-stuff off-a ‘is face. W-We knew we couldn’t tell the docs the truth. No one knows ‘cept the four of us.”

Her words put Bucky’s stomach in a vice grip. He started shaking violently, wanting to throw up. Immediately, the fear Steve projected at his touch came to mind. 

“N-No…” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. A coldness traveled up his arms, slowly consuming him. “No, no, no!”

“I-I’m sorry!” Eileen cried, burying her face in the palms of her hands. “I’m so sorry!”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. All he could do was pat Eileen’s shoulder and listen to her cry. He wasn’t allowed to cry. He wasn’t there to see it. After Eileen had calmed down, Bucky walked her home. They exchanged quiet goodbyes, unsure if they’d ever run into each other again. They probably would, but that didn’t matter. 

He didn’t know where to go. He needed to be in a place where he could unleash all of the anger and sadness stewing inside of his stomach. Bucky couldn’t go back to the apartment. There was no way he could ever look Steve in the eye without feeling an ounce of remorse. Instead, he ran back towards his parents’ place. As soon as he stepped in, Bucky rushed upstairs to his old room. Nearly tearing open the door, he let out a frustrated scream, a sound he almost didn’t recognize as his own. But he had to let it out, even if there were footsteps approaching.

“Bucky?” Becks stood at the doorway, unsure of what to do as Bucky continued to rage, throwing his old books against the floor. “W-What’s wrong? Bucky, answer me!”

He didn’t look up, not once. After running out of things to throw, Bucky kneelt down against his bed, hot tears streaming down his face. 

“M-Ma,” Becks called. “Ma! Come up here!”

Winifred ran up the stairs, not that Bucky noticed.

“Let me talk to him,” she said, her voice low. Becks nodded, and left. “James? Honey, what’s the matter?” Winifred asked, crouching down next to her son. As her hands touched his shoulders, he snapped up, facing her.

“S-Steve, ma...” Bucky muttered, unable to keep his jaw from trembling. “They hurt him. They  _ hurt _ him.” He repeated those three words over and over again, through hiccuping sobs.

Winifred did her best to console him, but failed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Bucky doesn't take any of this well. What makes it worse is Bucky not knowing the full story, so his imagination is filling in the gap of time that Eileen wasn't present. We'll be seeing more of Eileen, and at some point, her older brother, Finn. If the dark nature of this fic is too much, check out where the music's play, which is _so_ much happier, filled with fluff and idiots in love.


	5. Chapter 5

James Buchanan Barnes was a colossal fuck up. No one needed to tell him this—Bucky felt it in his very core. He had one job. One. Goddamn. Job. And that was to keep Steve safe. For all things good and holy, he even promised Sarah, who was another mother to him, on her deathbed that Steve would be looked after. But there was no going back, no changing what happened. So, Bucky swore up and down that he’d do everything in his power to be Steve’s crutch for as long as he needed.

His mother didn’t quite know what happened to Steve, but she understood enough. She knew that Bucky was aware of something bigger than she could imagine, and she knew her son wasn’t going to betray Steve’s trust by confiding in her. But Winifred couldn’t leave her boys alone, either. She made Bucky stay for another hour or so, to cook meatloaf and potatoes to take back home.

“You don’t need to tell me anything,” she said, handing the parcel of food to Bucky. Then, as an act of reassurance, Winifred patted his cheek. “Just let him know that we’re here for him.”

“I will, ma.” 

Bucky made his way back to Steve, feeling… well, hopeful was too strong of a strong word. If anything, he was still unnerved by what Eileen told him. He wanted to find those men, to hurt them, to make them pay.

But right now, Steve was more important.

When he stepped back into the apartment, it just as quiet as he left it. The food on the stove was left untouched. Bucky heaved a sigh.

After setting down the food his mother cooked on the table, Bucky knocked on the bedroom door. “Steve? I... I know you don’t wanna talk,” he said. “But I’m here, okay? I’ll even stay on the couch for as long as you need me to. I brought my ma’s meatloaf. We can eat it for lunch.”

Silence.

“Steve?”

He knocked again. This time, Bucky could hear Steve shuffling around. “Steve,  _ please _ . At least answer me.” Bucky hated this. He needed to hear something, anything. Even if Steve told him to leave him the fuck alone, that would be better than the silence that swelled between them. As he stepped back from the door, Bucky heard a muffled, heavy  _ thud _ .

“Steve! I-I’m comin’ in!”

Bucky turned the knob and opened the door slowly, surprised at how dark it was inside. Steve had pinned a blanket over the window, letting in little to no light. He pushed the door open all the way and saw paper scattered about the room, both as sheets and crumpled up balls. At a glance, Bucky noticed there were messy scribbles. The sketches he could make out were of random buildings, though they were incomplete. Once his vision adjusted, Bucky walked towards the bed. Steve was slumped over on against the bed his knees, 

“Shit, you gonna be okay Stevie?”

Steve looked up at him, eyes hollow and face pale. “... M’not hungry.”

“Aw, c’mon. Don’t do my ma like that.” Carefully, Bucky knelt down, attempting to gather the loose papers in a small pile. “You don’t have to eat a lot. Just a lil’ bit, okay? I can bring it over here if you want.”

Steve bit his lip, giving the offer some thought. But ultimately, he shook his head. “No… I’ll go out there.”

Bucky nodded, leaving the room so Steve could take his time. It didn’t take long to set the table, laying out two plates and two forks. Steve slowly emerged from the bedroom, eyes cautious as he walked over to the dining table. Although Bucky said that Steve didn’t have to eat a lot, he still gave Steve a slightly bigger portion of food. Steve wrinkled his nose but didn’t say anything as he picked up his fork, cutting up his food into small bites. Bucky could cut the thick silence between them with the butter knife in his hand, but he bit his tongue instead. 

After a few bites, Steve pushed some of the food around, the stubborn little shit. Bucky watched closely, counting the bites Steve took. So far, he had a total of five, and he chewed slowly each time. As he got up from the table, Steve pushed his plate forward.

“Thanks for the food. I… I think I’m just gonna go back to sleep.”

Bucky’s mouth twisted as he jolted up. “Stevie, wait. I… we need to talk.”

“Nothin’ to talk about, Buck.”

“Stevie,  _ please _ .”

“M’fine. Just need some sleep.” Steve bit his lower lip as his shoulders dropped. “You can go home, Bucky,” he muttered. He didn’t bother to hide any sourness in his voice. 

Bucky’s mouth went dry as a nervous laugh escaped from him. “What’re you talkin’ about? I  _ am _ home.”

“I meant back to your ma’s.” He tried to smile, but it didn’t come out right. Steve’s eyebrows were too tense, and the corners of his lips barely pulled up. “You don’t need to look after me.”

“Like hell I’m goin’!” Bucky slammed his fist against the table. He didn’t believe for a second that leaving Steve would help. “I’m not leavin’ you. You just got outta the hospital—”

“—it’s not like you haven’t left me home alone before,” Steve huffed. “Just go back home.”

As Steve retreated back into the room, Bucky’s hands started to shake. He brought one to his face, covering his mouth as he let out a choked sob. This was all going to shit.

* * *

 

When Bucky’s eyes fluttered open, the living room was still dark. He didn't remember when he settled on the couch, only that he didn’t want to be there. He wanted to be back in  _ their _ room, in  _ their _ bed, but Steve was too stubborn to let him in. As Bucky shifted around on their shitty excuse of a couch, he heard some noise coming from the bedroom. 

“Steve,” he called out carefully. “Steve? You okay?”

His gaze shifted towards the door, half-expecting for Steve to emerge. But he didn’t. Instead, a pained cry pierced through, striking Bucky to his core. He ran towards the room and swung the door open, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Steve was tangled in the sheets, tossing and turning, limbs thrashing about. He was muttering something between ragged breaths, but Bucky couldn’t make out what he was saying.

“Steve!”

Bucky carefully placed his hand on Steve’s shoulder, giving him a light shake.

“C’mon, Steve. Wake up,” he half-whispered, half-shouted. “You’re dreamin’. Wake up.”

Steve’s eyes snap open as he rolled to his side, facing away from Bucky. His chest rose and fell at a quick pace, his breath wheezing.

“Shit, Steve, slow down,” Bucky murmured. “C’mon, breathe with me. In… out… in… out.”

Steve did his best to comply, but he found difficulty in slowing down. His hands trembled as he brought them to his chest, clutching desperately at his shirt. But as Bucky continued to coax him, his breathing started to even out.

“There we go.” Bucky tried to be as gentle as possible. However, as soon as his hand made contact with Steve’s shoulder, Steve jerked away. Bucky knew why. Lord knows, he knew  _ why _ . But that didn’t make Steve’s rejection of his affection hurt any less.

“Steve,  _ please _ ,” Bucky begged. “Let me help you.”

“ _ Stop. _ ” 

Bucky winced at how pained Steve sounded. “You don’t hafta do any of this alone.” 

Steve shifted to face Bucky, face furious. His eyes narrowed as he gritted his teeth.

“You don’t get it!” The volume of Steve’s voice made Bucky jump back. His eyebrows lowered, and his eyes pierced through Bucky. “I don’t wanna talk about it!”

A debate raged in Bucky’s heart. If he chose to reveal what he knew, how would Steve react? Steve wasn’t in a good place, to say the least, and he didn’t want to risk making anything worse. But Bucky was desperate to have Steve confide in him, to lean on him. Otherwise, why was he there?

“Steve…” Bucky’s voice was thick and his eyes were stinging with tears. “Steve,  _ I know _ .”

Steve didn’t understand at first. His eyebrows furrowed as he searched Bucky’s for an answer. But as a tear rolled down Bucky’s cheek, Steve’s eyes widened in horror. He shook his head slowly, mumbling the quietest of  _ no’s _ .

“I-I… Eileen stopped by to give you flowers,” he confessed. “M’sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” 

Bucky was terrified of Steve’s silence. He expected Steve to lash out, to yell, to punch him. Instead, Steve  _ laughed _ . Sure, it was filled with bitterness, but it didn’t stop Bucky’s stomach from twisting.

“Don’t be,” Steve said quietly. “Was my fault. I always get into messes, don’t I?”

“How could you say that,” Bucky croaked. “Steve, it wasn’t—”

“—I wasn’t strong enough, but she got away so it’s fine. It coulda been worse.”

“ _ Steve _ , what the hell—”

“—it’s okay, Buck.” Steve offered a half-smile, but his eyes were empty. “It was just my mouth.”

As much as he tried, Bucky couldn’t stop his hands from trembling. A cry vaulted from his throat as he brought his hands to eyes, furiously wiping at the falling tears. 

“That doesn’t mean it’s less painful,” Bucky hiccuped. “That doesn’t make it better!”

While Bucky continued to cry, Steve turned around, trying in vain to find a comfortable position to fall asleep in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! It's been a while, but I haven't forgotten this fic! I signed up for some writing stuff, so I've been a bit busy. Check out the stuff I wrote in the meanwhile!
> 
> > [you don't need to fall with me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19145551)  
> > [until you come to me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19367647)
> 
>  
> 
> As always, I hope you guys like this update. Comments and kudos give me life!


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